Chronic Scribe

Yes to God, no to the astral

In October 2009, my husband, four-year-old daughter, and our dogs escaped from a house fire in the middle of the night.

Our smoke alarm never went off; our upstairs neighbour banged on our door to wake us up. It was approximately 4:00 am.

After the neighbour woke us up, we began to collect our dogs on the way to our child’s bedroom, which was beside the only door out. I recall standing in the living room as smoke began to fill it. I was about to collect the dogs.

And then an internal voice – my Own Voice from within – said clearly and as a matter-of-fact, “You don’t have to be here for this.” There was instant agreement, and I noticed consciousness leave the body. I visually travelled the length of the front curtains as I “left”; the last of all images being the top of the window along the top of the curtain rod, which could not have been visible with the body’s eyes from where it was standing.

And then there was nothing … there was nothing but everything. It was like I was 360 degrees of infinitely, intensely “dimensional” but unified blackness with little blips of whitish dots, something like stars, but so far away they were only like pixels or individual photons. I was the very Center of this space, the quality/reality of which was Love. “I” had no body. There was no form; no sensual representation nor memory of it. There were no thoughts; absolutely nothing was present but the Presence of the Quality/Reality of Love. I was fully Aware, yet I was not conscious of any part of me being “outside of myself”.

The quality of this state of mind is of Pure, Absolute Love. The energy wasn’t static; the Absolute is not a picture framed as if to stand still in time. It is a dynamic interchange of the very Energy of Love between what can only be described by consciousness as “me, myself, and I” – as if Being the Holy Trinity. I was Pure Energy without form, and only Pure Energy. I did not “lose my identity into the nothingness” . In fact, as far as identity goes, what occurred in that state was the opposite of what one might think – I released to what felt like it could only be my true Identity, fully and complete. I was lacking nothing; I was one with the Source of everything. The idea of “Darcie French” did not exist. “Darcie French” never was.

Though I try, there are no words that can do nonlinear Reality justice. Reality is not describable in terms consciousness can truly understand, because the state is completely devoid of consciousness. There is only Awareness of Self, as Love, that is both one’s “Reality” and “Identity”. Reality and Identity are one in the same in the Absolute.

Apparently the body kept doing its thing to gather up its attachments and leave the house, because the next thing I was conscious of was sitting in our minivan with my young child on my lap, watching the house burn.

It appeared that I had severe post-traumatic stress after the fire. I could barely move the body; gravity seemed extra intense after the lightness of being without form. White streaks appeared in my hair as if “overnight”. It wasn’t the fire, though, that “flattened me”, but the state I went into. Propensity to identify with form was veritably demolished by the full realization of the effortlessness of being in total receipt of nonlinear Love, compared to the duality of living entombed by belief in the forgetful flesh.

Two days or so after the fire, I was laying in bed partially awake, when I spontaneously went to what seemed like an astral plane in consciousness. There were invisible “demons” there, or “astral entities” who had built a magnificent, totally incredible kind of palace out of marble. It was intricately decorated with all sorts of precious metals, an immense place where I had never been before in my wildest dreams. It was beautiful, but it immediately felt as if the quality of Love “in the fire” had been somehow “turned into” a magnificent substitute.

It was so interesting, though, captivating, really, as I wandered through the halls of this palace looking at the amazing artwork, and marvelling at the most beautiful kinds of form I had ever seen. I had literally never seen anything like it before, not “on Earth”, nor in dreams.

The astral entities, while not visible, seemed to surround me and delight in my wonderment. Then a question arose for them, “is this really real?” Everything shifted and I was in another room of the palace. Appearing very real, my husband’s form was lying on the floor in a puddle of vomit, clearly, by the empty bottles beside him, from drinking too much alcohol.

“If you don’t believe this is real, then this will happen,” was telepathically communicated by the invisible entities. A horrible, horrible grief arose within me at the sight of my husband. It was a grief so huge, that for a split second, it almost got me to believe in its reality.

I watched as I turned away and said “no”, though, to the astral. I said no to the very nature of consciousness itself. The magnificent palace immediately disappeared. I no longer wanted what mind could dream up as a way to separate from nonlinear Love; I wanted only Love Itself. The knowingness was present that none of what was presented before me in form was real, that the so called “demons” were only my own ideas. My husband is never an imaginary body lying in distress. It was apparent that I could never join him, or anyone, “in form”, because true joining is in Mind, at its Source, as Love.